Take control, Mavi.
Clearing my throat, trying not to draw attention to my ruined pants, I throw on the smile I put on for the camera, resuming my composure. “Such a good boy for me, weren’t you?” I purr, patting his chest a little.
His whole body shudders at the words like I struck him. I take one step back, then another, his fingers dragging across my skin like he physically cannot make them let go. Each inch of lost contact pulls a broken sound out of his throat. The hallway airhits the soaked fabric between my thighs and the cold contrast against the heat makes me shiver.
“See you soon, Sai.”
My voice cracks on his name. I watch his face change when he hears it, the surrender in his eyes shifting into something closer to wonder.
I rush toward my door, holding back another whine. I open my door and close it without looking back, leaning against it in the next moment, my hand flying over my mouth. A lower, needier whine pulls from my throat as another gush of slick fills my pants, a small patch of wetness at the front growing.
“Fuck,” I whisper behind my hand.
None of this was part of the plan but I can’t find the reason to care. The thing my brain keeps circling back to is simple. His hands did not move until I said touch. And when I said good boy, he shuddered like I had given him something no one had ever given him before.
I stare at my wrecked reflection in the mirror across from me and I know with absolute certainty that I am going to knock on that man’s door, and when he opens it I am going to find out exactly how far that obedience goes.
But that is a problem for future Mavi. Right now, I need to change my pants.
